Odd and Unclear

Early clear skies have turned cloudy, and if it weren’t for the temperature being near forty, I’d say flurries were on the way. But, no, just a milky white color that mirrors the snow pack. My neighbor, a terrible gossip, hasn’t been seen for awhile. It’s odd. I don’t cotton to gossip.

So there isn’t much happening here in the ‘hood. So why do I feel compelled to write something? Who knows. Here is a song of which I have a high opinion. It makes me feel so lucky that I found my wife, Nancy. My goodness do I love her.

My wife’s son, Michael, is a really excellent fellow. My wife and I didn’t know what to expect when he moved in three months ago, but it couldn’t have gone better.

I miss my father. This year of 2013 hasn’t been great. As I said, Michael moved in and like him a lot, so that’s a good thing. Otherwise I’m awaiting 2014 with hope. They have bereavement groups around to help people like myself work through the grieving process. My therapist does her job very well, and I trust her and predict that her counsel will be emotionally efficacious. My appointment to see her this week is today at 1pm, about an hour away. It’s time to get into the frame of mind necessary for our session. My list of topics to discuss, in my little black notebook, will help me avoid embarrassment at having nothing in mind to talk about.

Here’s an odd problem to have. About two years ago I read a novel that I enjoyed greatly, and I want to read it again, but I can’t remember the title or author’s name. How odd. It’s an interesting problem, but frustrating. Whilst dealing with crippling depression last year, and several years before that, I underwent electro-convulsive therapy (ECT). It helped a great deal, but it has had a negative impact on my memory. What I’ve forgotten, I do not know. I’ve just spent five minutes looking for my cup of coffee, which I prepared and promptly set down somewhere when the phone rang. The way the mind works…real clockwork orange.

Two hours ago, Nancy and I went to the local supermarket. While I was standing outside waiting for her to come out, as she had to run in and pick get something we had forgotten, a Somerville Police car pulled up and a cop jumped out and ran into the store. On the passenger side of his car, I could see a laptop that informed me of the reason for his visit; someone was having an epileptic seizure in aisle four…the baking supplies aisle, if memory serves. As someone who suffers from epilepsy, I felt a sudden, strong connection with this person. Almost as if it were I who was having the seizure. How odd.

Well, off I go to my therapist, through the slush and puddles from the rapidly melting snow. I’m looking forward to it for reasons that are unclear to me. So much is unclear to me.

My slushy ‘hood…

Image

Be well, my odd friends.

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About Darren W. Lyle

I'm certifiably insane (I have the paperwork), collect old typewriters (got one?), am 43 years old, and am divorced. I've five pets, of course, and have thoughts. Some aren't good, some are. some are funny, some are just there, but I'll post them when I'm of a mind to.
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